It’s come to my attention that my last column, in which I fanned the flames of what is apparently a longstanding feud between Cedar Rapids and Iowa City, has sparked a bit of controversy. This is, of course, a good thing. After all, what is the purpose of a local magazine, if not to engage the community? Plus, it’s always nice to know that people are actually reading these things, and I’m not just writing weird little rants to nobody, like a very narcissistic episode of The Twilight Zone. For someone whose only interaction on any given weekend is with the Chinese delivery guy, outraged Instagram DMs basically feel like Valentines.
However, it appears as though some people were sincerely hurt by some of my comments, and for that I am sorry. I’d like to clarify that I harbor no ill will towards Cedar Rapids, because having strong feelings of antipathy for the mid-sized Midwestern city of your birth is the sort of thing that only works during your middle school pop-punk phase.
That said, I feel it’s important to clarify that this is a humor column, and its contents should certainly not be taken as genuine. In other columns published this year, I have repeatedly made light of alcoholism and openly called for teenagers to drown themselves in order to avoid spreading COVID. Those were, y’know, jokes, and I’m sure some people found them to be in poor taste, but I find it interesting that people are much more offended by the (admittedly not original) observation that a lot of my high school friends have the same dye job they did when we were 16.
Anyway, that little crack I made about Mexican food had the happy side effect of getting me a whole bunch of restaurant recommendations, which I am only too happy to take.
This article was originally published in Little Village issue 294.